


After the Drawstring

by usermechanics



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: Dating, F/F, Love Letters, Romance, Umi being stupid, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 08:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30052392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usermechanics/pseuds/usermechanics
Summary: On Valentine's Day, Umi learns just how complicated love can be.It doesn't help when she and her crush both have tons of valentines in their lockers.
Relationships: Ayase Eli/Sonoda Umi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23
Collections: Umi's Birthday Bash





	After the Drawstring

**Author's Note:**

> so i heard about this "umi's birthday bash" thing and they didn't have someone writing eliumi. i seized this opportunity because eliumi heck yeah i don't get enough chances to write these two together and i still love them. these two are great do not @ me.
> 
> anyway this fic is more sid-compliant than anime-compliant and i am unapologetic about that.

Love is archery.

Love is the calmness in grabbing an arrow and dedicating oneself to it. Love is in the care of resting the arrow against the bow, and slowly pulling back. It takes strength to pull back, to commit oneself to the action, and once the commitment starts, it’s impossible to stop. The string might be taut with tension, and one may rest with it pulled back, but if one uses all one’s strength to pull back enough, one would need even more to return it to resting, filling the archer with the wonder of what could have been had they actually and let go.

Once the arrow is let go, it is no longer in the control of the archer. The archer could have done everything in the world to ensure it went where they wanted, but once the arrow is in the air, it’s not connected to them anymore, bar its association. It’s a matter of faith where the arrow goes, and the archer can only hope that they calculated everything correctly, that the arrow hits their target cleanly.

All the archer can really do is make sure that their shot is as perfect as possible beforehand, and hope fate draws a kind hand to them. 

But is fate ever kind?

* * *

A letter rests on Umi’s desk, along with an envelope right beside it. The letter is folded so it would fit perfectly inside. It’s the result of hard work and countless attempts, endless brainstorming that found itself in the recycling bin besides Umi’s desk now that it had outlived its usefulness.

The bin, emptied earlier in the morning, is now full, overflowing with corners of paper. As much as Umi hates to look at it, she knows that without the papers in there, there wouldn’t be the one on her desk, neatly folded, words written with the craft and precision that her situation calls for. Part of her wishes she could give the letter one more go, but she knows better. She’d be there all night, trying her best to make her words as perfect as they could be, in their lyricism, calligraphy, and poetic depth alike.

Umi looks at the clock. It’s midnight. There’s no point in continuing this way; if she wanted to get her words out in the most perfect of manners, she wouldn’t get any sleep. She doesn’t even want to know about how much time she has cut away from her sleep just to get what she has on paper. Even if it’s nowhere close to her best work, Umi goes forth and commits to this letter.

The envelope is a perfect sleeve for her letter, hiding the blue ballpoint ink that can be read through the back of the paper. Whether it was the pressure she felt getting every word right, or the weight of the words themselves manifesting in how Umi wrote, she doesn’t care. Closing the letter, Umi thinks for a second about using a wax seal to seal it. It’s formal, but perhaps a bit _too_ formal for the circumstance. This isn’t a college acceptance letter; it’s for a classmate.

The glue that seals a letter tastes terrible, Umi realizes after the fact. She wishes that she could have just sealed it with wax for that reason alone, even if it meant explaining why she was awake with a lit candle--or any kind of hot wax, for that matter--when she should be sleeping.

And just to make sure that she remembers exactly why she wrote the letter in the first place, she flips it over. Even if the recipient’s name appeared several times in the letter itself, Umi wants to make sure that it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. It’s bad enough that she wrote this as is; if anyone that wasn’t the intended audience caught wind of it, to Umi it might as well have been the end of her future.

And thus, as Umi grabs her pen for the last time that night, she can feel her heart racing as she puts it to paper. With all the effort she put into making sure the letter itself looked perfect, the envelope needs to have the same level of quality put into it. 

_From: Sonoda Umi_

Umi sees exactly what she has done, and it feels like a mistake. Couldn’t she have just called herself a secret admirer instead? What would happen if, say, word got out about the letter and she had to hear about it endlessly during club practice? The earfuls she’d get from Nico she can already hear. At the very least, she knows she can trust the person to whom she’s dedicated this letter.

At the very least, she hopes. It’s always a gamble with people.

Umi looks at the letter again, but instead of looking at it with embarrassment she looks at it objectively: her name is barely above the center of the envelope, giving just enough space for the recipient’s name to make some level of symmetry. Umi bites her tongue, looking at the letter as it is; she’s going to live up to her mistake. She only brought one envelope into her room when she started this, and she’s not going downstairs to get another.

Thus, with slightly bated breath, Umi presses her pen down against the paper once more, giving herself the reminder that she needs when she wakes up to put the envelope in her bag.

_To: Ayase Eli_

Umi places it on the center on the desk, face-up. The events of the day are now over, and she crosses out the 13th from her monthly calendar.

After a change into her pajamas, Umi goes to bed, hoping that she can get enough sleep.

Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.

* * *

It’s hard for Umi to pay attention during morning classes.

She slept well, had a decent breakfast, and her morning rituals were how they always were. The walk to school was just as she expected from a February morning: brisk, cold, teasing the spring that’s approaching with every passing day.

It’s that letter, the one she slipped away in her locker. She doesn’t want it in her bag; she doesn’t want to touch it and grow so hot that her bag catches on fire. She wants it tucked away, placed in a locker in her mind so it’s out of reach. Even if she grows curious during her classes about it, she doesn’t want to look at it.

It feels like this might be how Honoka lives every day. Umi looks at her; Honoka sits right next to her so it’s not hard to see her idly doodling something in her notebook. Umi doesn’t want to peer, but the determination Honoka has on her face makes clear that she’s obviously not writing down the lesson notes.

Honoka glances up at the chalkboard, peers for a few seconds, and then returns to the notebook. Umi’s eyes widen as she realizes Honoka has better notes than her. It’s confirmed when Umi looks down at her own notes, half-scribbled kanji that she doesn’t quite understand. Historical information blends seamlessly with small bits of love poetry and mentions of waiting for the bell.

And, thankfully, the bell chimes. It’s finally lunch time, and it couldn’t have come soon enough for Umi. She cuts her losses for the day, a bunch of notes that are certainly useless for studying, and concedes that she’ll talk with Kotori some time later about getting the notes from her.

The teacher walks out of the classroom, and Honoka immediately turns to Umi, a chipper smile on her face. Honoka leans back on her chair, side-tail grazing the top of the chair’s support.

“Aren’t you glad that it’s lunch time, Umi-chan?” Honoka asks.

Umi puts her notebook into her bag, giving Honoka a quiet nod.

Honoka raises an eyebrow momentarily, curiosity filling her visage. “Hey, Umi-chan,” she asks, “is everything okay?”

Umi’s cheeks flush a slight pink, and the back of her shirt clings to her skin. It suddenly feels a few degrees hotter in the classroom, but Honoka’s expression doesn’t change; it’s just herself that’s burning up.

“Everything’s fine!” Umi replies, her voice raised in pitch that negates any goodwill her words held. She can see the teasing disbelief in Honoka’s eyes, but it’s an expression that fades immediately as she turns to her right and greets Kotori, who’s been standing in front of the space between their desks for who knows how long.

Kotori gives both Honoka and Umi a smile, and then she turns her attention towards Umi in particular. “Umi-chan, are you okay? You look like you’re burning.”

Kotori’s voice has always been soothing, but it does nothing to aid Umi’s flush. If anything, it exacerbates; they’re both there, prying at an answer that could make everything incredibly awkward between them. Umi takes a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate and make things even more obvious that things are not fine.

“I’m good,” Umi finally replies.

After a few seconds of silence, Umi remembers why she doesn’t lie to Kotori. She stares intensely for a second, and Umi feels a bit uncomfortable about it. She knows exactly what Kotori’s about to say, and she braces for it.

“Are you sure? After all, it _is_ Valentine’s Day, and--”

Umi shoots her a look that, if they could kill, would have ended up having Kotori drop dead on the spot. She doesn’t expect said dying to be from laughter, though. Umi doesn’t understand exactly how much of a punchline the stare is, but she doesn’t stop giving it, even if her anger is now about how Kotori not taking her seriously.

Once Kotori stops laughing, she turns her attention to Honoka, with a wide smile on her face. “Umi-chan likes someone!”

“I do not!” Even if she does, she doesn’t want that getting _out_. Having two close friends go in and ask about who she likes is incredibly embarrassing.

“Who do you like, Umi-chan?” Honoka asks.

“N-nobody!” Umi remarks.

They start alternating.

“Is it someone in this class?”

“Is it someone in µ’s?”

“Is it someone at this school?”

“Where did you meet them, Umi-chan?”

 _No, yes, yes, who doesn’t know the student council president?_ She says none of it aloud. The probing is outright shameless and she’ll accept absolutely none of it. The only problem is that she’s overpowered by both Honoka and Kotori, and they have their ways to get Umi to crack, whether she wants to speak up or not.

“Please, Umi-chan?” Honoka asks.

“Umi-chan, _please?_ ” Kotori pleads.

Umi closes her eyes. She knows that if she opens them and sees their requests, her mouth would be the next to open; the last thing she wants is for a rumor centering around her to start getting around the school. It would ruin everything. And she is at her breaking point. It’s impossible to say no to either of them, especially when they start asking like this.

It’s one thing to employ this strategy for getting her into µ’s. She’s grateful for how it had opened her eyes to the world and allowed her to get closer to Eli than she ever thought possible, but it’s another entirely for her second year to end with a chorus of people talking about how Umi has a crush on the school council president.

“Where are you going?” Honoka asks, getting Umi out of her train of thought. All that thought, and she hasn’t taken a single step to get her to her destination.

“I left my bento in my locker.” Umi says. Opening her eyes, she can see the slight judgment cast on Honoka’s and Kotori’s faces, but after a few seconds, they’re all smiles.

“We’ll see you after you get your lunch!”

“Don’t get caught up with your admirer!”

“Kotori…” Umi huffs, but she can’t think of anything she can say besides that. She turns around and heads out of the classroom, finally out of the hair of the two people who can get her to spill the beans early.

Umi’s heart races as she walks through the halls. She has all of lunch period to gather her composure, but the closer she gets to the lockers, the more she could feel her chest pounding. It’s not unbearable, but it’s terrifying; the closest thing she can relate it to is the feeling of being on stage for the first time, but back then she had Honoka and Kotori to support her. She has neither; they won’t be helpful in getting her letter to Eli. She’s alone with her thoughts and fears, and all she can do is hope that Eli doesn’t find her letter _too_ corny.

After what feels like a month of walking, she finally makes it to the lockers, and she swears that she can’t feel her fingertips. It’s a terrifying sight, especially if there are people inside that she can’t see, but from her first glance inside, it looks empty. It’s the best case scenario, but her fingers are still shaking slightly as she walks forward and heads inside.

The room is completely empty, Umi realizes, and it calms her down a bit knowing that she’s alone, for now. There can always be someone who steps in who actually has a bento in their locker. The worst case scenario for that would be Nozomi; she wouldn’t hear the end of it if so. Nozomi would spread that story faster than Honoka, and she wasn’t sure if that was the price to pay for her precious dignity.

The moment she opens her locker, letters pour out and into her arms. Her eyes widen slightly at the sudden onslaught of paper, and she grabs the letters, slightly terrified of just how many of them fill her locker. It’s practically overflowing. She thumbs through them, reading the backs of them, and another more terrifying fact becomes apparent.

All of her admirers are secret. She can’t tell the difference between all the calligraphy of the students, but one thing is made clear; Honoka and Kotori wrote none of them. She can recognize their handwriting, but everyone else’s is a total crapshoot for her.

It makes Umi’s letter to Eli all the more obvious. Not only is it the only one dedicated to Eli, and the only one with Eli’s name on it, but it’s also the only one with two names on it. Umi feels a lump in her throat and she tries her best to swallow it down once she puts all the letters back besides the one for Eli.

It takes a few attempts to close the door to her locker, but eventually she does it, and she heads over to Eli’s locker. She remembers being told by Nozomi which locker it is for the sake of student council paperwork that’s not immediately club-related, so it’s an easy find.

It’s also an easy find because the door is bulging slightly, and through the slits in the metal Umi can see that the locker is beyond stuffed with love letters. Apparently she’s not the only one with a fan club, and she’s also not the only one with a crush on Eli.

For a moment, she thanks Honoka for making her write more poetry. As a lyricist for µ’s, she’s written more in her second year than she did during middle school and elementary school combined, giving her enough time to refine her craft. Still, there’s a lot of letters, with many from secret admirers.

It’s now or never for Umi. She’s pulled the drawstring on love, readied herself and secured her target. The only thing she has to do now is let go and hope that fate deals a kind enough hand. 

Part of her wants her to go immediately, but she knows that she’s made it this far, and embarrassed herself in front of Honoka and Kotori. It’s far too late for her to change any of that; she’s in too deep, and there’s no point in forgoing her commitment.

Umi pushes her letter into the top of Eli’s locker, and slowly, it finds its way in. She makes sure that every bit of it is pushed inside, so she doesn’t have to look at it anymore. It’s not in her control anymore. It’s a letter that belongs to Eli, and only Eli.

A wave of relief crashes through Umi, but it’s fleeting. She’s finally done. The metaphorical arrow has been shot, but even on targets that are far away, she would have known if she hit by now. She’s caught in limbo with the love letter, and the more time she spends thinking about the results, the more she stirs herself into a panic.

She turns around and heads off, thankful that the entirety of the locker room is just as empty as it was when she entered.

* * *

Umi sighs, slumped over her desk. Besides her are several stacks of envelopes, all the love letters that filled up her locker, and Umi doesn’t even know where to start.

She scans the handwriting on top of each of them. A sea of “to Umi”s greet her, each with their slight eccentricities of the hand. She could feel the passion radiating from the handwriting, and can even empathize with it. It’s a brave act for all of them to step forth and declare themselves, in a manner identical to how she was just a few days ago. She can see images of students she doesn’t know, hunched over, throwing letters away, just like she did, to make something perfect for her to read. Juniors, seniors, freshmen; it doesn’t matter who wrote it, though.

Part of her wants to open the letters, see what the school had to say about her, but there’s a part of her who wants them to stay closed forever. She knows that no matter what, she isn’t able to reciprocate. There is the slight chance in each letter that the secret admirer was, indeed, Eli, but Umi knows better than to be a romantic about this. Even if she knows better, it does pique her curiosity; there might be a letter from Eli in this sea of envelopes.

Umi grabs the top letter from the nearest stack, and she opens it. She pulls out the letter and starts reading it.

_Sonoda,_

_I really don’t know how to say this, but I’ve always admired you from afar._

_From,_

_Your secret admirer_

Umi closes the letter and slips it back in the envelope. As much as she wishes to admire the letter in turn, there’s a terseness that makes it feel almost uncomfortable. She’s not sure what it even means, and she doesn’t know if she wants to respond to it in any meaningful way. It’s the opposite of what she did for Eli. Even if the nerves of writing something and sending it to a valentine was difficult, if Umi can power through with a poem…

...but, on the other hand, there’s a chance this was the best this person can do. Umi set the letter aside regardless. She can’t find a way to say anything about the declaration of love. She really doesn’t know how to say it, and amongst a sea of potential passion, the muddled words have faded away, with the secrecy of this admirer a solace. It can be anyone in the school.

Umi picks up another letter and opens it. The letter, this time, is typed out.

_Sonoda,_

_I love u_

_fhqwhgadshgnsdhjsdbkhsdabkfabkveybvf_

Umi puts that one away. She has no comment.

The next few letters fare little better, with the longest being a line of handwriting. There’s very little that Umi can say about them. They made valiant efforts, but none of them were gripping in any sort of way. Maybe valentines are meant to be this short, and the outpouring of emotions on Umi’s end is what’s truly off-putting.

After a few letters, though, one of them catches Umi’s attention. As opposed to the flurry of plain white envelopes from her potential suitors, the light pink, even if it is barely noticeable, stands out like a sore thumb. Umi grabs it, her curiosity piqued. As she scans the front of the envelope, there’s no surprises: just the standard _To: Sonoda Umi_ she expects, but as she turns it around, she flushes slightly; the envelope is sealed with a heart-shaped sticker.

Umi’s hands shake, but she manages to slip her thumbnail underneath the sticker and break the seal. The paper is also light pink, but outside of its color, it looks like a standard piece of notebook paper, with no creases bar the two folds. Umi opens it and starts reading the first thing she sees.

_and I only wish I could truly let out how I feel, but I worry that something might happen if I do. I understand just how beloved you are in the school, and I do not want to make Otonokizaka into a sea of lamentations, just because I am with you._

Umi lets go of the paper. It doesn’t even matter that she started reading from the back side. What she read is enough for her to know that whoever wrote this is serious, in the case that theming it in the way she did doesn’t make it clear. Through the mediocrity, the words shine out, even if they’re primarily a tease regarding the rest of the school, and it puts weight into all those other letters. Without them, it’s a weaker note.

Umi can’t stop, though. She peers once more.

_Maybe it’d be for the better, though, if the school were a sea of lamentations; I would love to travel said sea with you, Sonoda, as if we were my fingers running through your hair._

Umi feels like she’s watching her own personal downfall as she read the paper. A hand reaches up to her chest; her palm is freezing, but her heart is pounding loudly. Her other hand reaches upwards, towards her hair, to run her fingers through. Soft, silky; things that she never thought of herself until this mysterious letter came into her life. A lump forms in her throat, and she swallows it down after a few attempts. Deep breaths follow; in, out, in, out. She gives the letter another look, a bit downward.

_Many say that beauty is skin-deep, but your truest beauty comes from within, in everything you do, from the solemnity in the way you draw an arrow along your bow, to the bright smile that lights the stages you dance on._

Umi reaches for the letter, only so she can close it and slip it back into the envelope. There is absolutely no way that she can read any more of that without dying on the spot. The hand that once ran through her hair checks her forehead. She’s burning to the touch, and her brow is soaked in sweat. There’s so much that this letter has done to her.

And then, a pang rushes through her heart, and the heat that she feels becomes colder than ice. Even if this admirer is one from afar, like many before her, she’s still an admirer, a secret one.

There’s no guarantee or promise it’s from Eli.

The verbose language disqualifies Honoka, but it can be anyone else in the school who said all those things about her. Words that made her day all the more special, made her learn that she’s more than admired--but truly loved--can be from anywhere and anyone. And if it were Eli, she would have been up-front about it, and been a bit of a tease about it, and gave Umi the letter on her own accord.

Unease fills Umi where that passionate warmth once did. The letter grows hot to the touch, and she lets go of it, flinging it away and scattering other letters in the process. Stacks turn into a pile, topped by that one pink letter. A fun amusement to see what everyone thinks of her had now turned into a nightmare, taunting her. The thought fills Umi’s mind that any of those letters can be Eli’s, if Eli had even been one of the people to write her a letter in the first place.

She can’t guarantee the pink one is Eli’s. She also can’t guarantee that one of the white letters isn’t from Eli. She can’t even guarantee that the first one she read which she immediately discarded isn’t Eli’s, and that she practically rejected her right there and then on her desk.

Umi stands up and takes a deep breath. It’s not supposed to be like this. Fate might be cruel, but this is far beyond cruel. It’s like if she were to go to archery practice on a windy day, and when she and someone next to her shoot an arrow, the breeze pushes her arrow away from the target and the person next to her gets a bulls-eye on her target; and she can’t see her own arrow. All that’s left in that thought is a single arrow, belonging to both of them and neither of them.

Umi wonders if this is why Nozomi’s so obtuse when she talks about fate; it’s not Nozomi being confusing as much as it is fate itself.

She doesn’t even bother to stack up all the letters. She turns off the desk lamp and hopes that lying in bed will eventually get her to sleep, and contemplation of whether or not she wants to sleep, knowing that the pink love letter will haunt her dreams.

She can at least dream that Eli wrote it. Even if it’s just something in her dreams, she’ll take it. It’s the solace Umi needs right now.

* * *

Weeks pass, and nothing happens, even if Umi’s letter remains in the back of her mind. It makes fleeting passes in her thoughts after school, when she’s alone in her room, and it disappears before she goes to bed so she can dream of archery and Eli. It comes up in the moments where she sees Eli in the halls, but never during idol practice; singing and dancing is hard enough without the pressure of some admirer from afar keeping her privacy.

And with every time they practice, Eli talks with Umi. She talks with everyone, and it’s always about classwork, and when it’s not, it’s about the archery club or plans for next year’s student council. It’s never about the letter, whether it be for the sake of decency, the fear of having Umi faint and having to continue choreography practice with eight, or the letter sitting pretty at the bottom of her recycling bin, unopened.

All Umi can do when she talks with Eli is talk, make conversation, and hope that the letter doesn’t show up, while at the same time wishing that Eli might bring it up in a positive light. A fat chance, though; Umi’s seen the sheer amount of letters that Eli got on Valentine’s Day, a competition between the three quarters of the school who didn’t send her letters instead.

As time passes by, though, and February becomes March, the thoughts fade even more, growing ever-distant. The only moments where the memories even linger are in the times where Eli’s talking with Umi and their gazes are matched up against one another, and the passionate flame that she sees in that radiant blue is enough to spark everything once more.

But all those thoughts immediately dissipate, like smoke waved by a fan, as Honoka’s elbow bumps into Umi’s arm; whether it’s on accident or on purpose, Umi doesn’t know, but it wakes her up a bit. Outside of her head, she’s walking down a hallway, with Honoka and Kotori, after class.

“Umi-chan,” Honoka says, “you’ve been out of it all day. Are you okay?”

Umi nods. She thought she was better about this, but apparently not. “I just need to get some water.”

Honoka smiles, and grabs Kotori by the wrist. “Okay! See you on the roof, Umi-chan!”

Honoka runs off with Kotori, towards the stairs. Umi, meanwhile, takes her own path, walking down a few more hallways.

As she walks, she sees several groups of girls, many of them kind enough to give Umi a wave as she ambles. Umi waves back at all of them, not noticing the flushes in their cheeks as they greet her. To any of them, it’s like shaking hands with a celebrity or getting their autograph, moments that will be forever imprinted in their minds for their high school careers, if not even further.

But as she turns to see one person wave and their face is red, Umi returns to being, in Honoka’s words, out of it. Any of the people that she had been waving to could have been the one who wrote that letter to her, and suddenly, the gazes that she felt seem less welcoming and more claustrophobic, suffocating the area around her in a beautiful and awkward manner. Umi can’t put her finger on the right word to describe it, but the redness that flushes her face speaks more volumes than any word can. Umi picks up the pace a bit more, feeling gazes pass by her, and none that linger for an overly-inappropriate amount of time.

Once she reaches her destination, a few vending machines tucked away in the hall, there’s nobody else around her. Nobody had taken the chance to walk forward and proclaim that they were the one to write that letter, leaving the identity of the author as mysterious as it had been in February.

Maybe nerves just got too much in the way, much like how they’ve clouded Umi’s gaze and made her hands cold. A hand shakes as she reaches into her bag to grab a bill from her purse so she can get something to drink. Water sounds absolutely perfect right now.

Umi jumps slightly as she hears footsteps behind her. She expects to see the author of the letter show up.

In the reflection of the vending machine, Umi sees Eli. It’s the second-worst-case scenario.

“Hi, Umi!” Eli says loudly enough to pull Umi’s attention away from the vending machine and towards her. “Fancy seeing you here!”

Umi turns on her heel so she’s facing Eli, silently admiring her from a few steps away. With her face as flushed as it is, it’s impossible to act natural, but it doesn’t mean that Umi doesn’t make an attempt. “Hi, Eli,” Umi begins, trying her best to sound casual. “What brings you here?”

“I’m just getting some water before practice.”

“I’m doing the same,” Umi replies, turning her attention to the vending machine momentarily as she presses a few buttons. The machine whirrs for a bit, and the familiar sound of plastic clunking fills the area; her water is here, and Umi squats down to grab it.

She needs it, considering Eli’s next words. “Hey, Umi, about the valentine you sent me…”

Umi didn’t even have time to overthink her scenarios. Eli’s one step ahead of her, even there, and it’s enough for Umi to catch her breath. She grabs the bottle of water, warm to her touch, and pulls it out. Her secret’s been exposed; Eli’s known said secret, and only now she’s come clean to talk about it.

“What valentine?” Umi asks, trying her best to play dumb to some extent.

Eli squints. She’s unamused. “What do you mean, what valentine?”

“I didn’t send you a valentine!” Umi blurts out, trying her best to defend herself. She’s close to putting her hands between her and Eli, but her arms are too heavy to pick up. She stands there, breathing heavily, trying her best to convince Eli of something absurd.

At the very least, Umi appreciates how Eli did that in a place as private and secluded as the vending machines after school. Nobody else is around, and nobody else needs to hear what Eli has to tell her. But at the same time, it means that she lacks anyone who would show her some sympathy after a swift, brutal rejection from her. There’s no way in her mind that the student council president of all people would break the idol-like image that she has.

“Then who wrote the valentine to me that said it was from you?” Eli tilts her head.

“I don’t know! It might have just been a prank!”

“I don’t know,” Eli says, pulling the valentine out of her bag, opened up. “This looks a lot like your handwriting on those idol club forms you gave me at the beginning of the year.”

“They must be good at copying other people’s handwriting! They’re in the calligraphy club!”

“Are you sure?” Eli asks, pulling the letter from the envelope. “What a shame. This is really beautiful. I was actually really touched by it, and I was kind of hoping that you were the one who actually wrote it.”

Umi’s eyes widen, and she drops her water. Her hands suddenly start burning, like blood has suddenly returned to them, and she reaches for her chest. She swears that, for a second, her heart has stopped. It’s not enough for her to wretch forward and scream in agony, but enough for her to become aware of everything around her.

Her stomach drops immediately after. She needs to do damage control to her damage control.

“You actually liked it?” Umi asked, her words much more soft than accusatory.

“Of course I did,” Eli said. “You’re a very talented poet, and when I read it, I could see you letting it all out. You were even as red as you are right now.”

Umi’s legs shake a bit. It’s hard for her to stand up, even when Eli emphasizes her point with two words: “It’s cute!”

Umi wants to faint, but she keeps going. “T-thank you,” she stammers.

Eli’s lips curl into a smirk. “So you _did_ write it.”

Umi reaches forward and grabs the letter. “Of course I did, Eli! I-I-I-” The words that she wants to come forth are impossible to find now, leaving her to stammer over herself. Eli giggles, like it’s not a problem in the slightest.

Eli reaches around Umi with her other hand, pulling her into an embrace. All the tension that’s filled her body releases, and part of her wants to apologize for being so stupid about everything. Love’s hard, and it’s impossible for her to realize that Eli feels the same way.

And in Eli’s warmth, the words come out so much easier. “I admire you a lot, Eli.”

Eli pulls the letter out of Umi’s grasp and puts it away, only for her to rest her palm on top of Umi’s balled fist. “I understand,” Eli says. “That’s why I wanted to ask if you wanted to do something this weekend, like have dinner together or something.”

Umi’s body grows heavy momentarily, but she takes a deep breath and looks into Eli’s eyes. She doesn’t even want to know what emotion is on her own face, but Eli’s is that of pure curiosity.

Umi sates it. “Of course we can. I’d love to.”

Eli pulls Umi tightly into the embrace, and when she pulls away, tells Umi to abscond. She’ll be on her way.

Umi wants to turn around but something forces her not to. Her hands stay in Eli’s, only letting go of one of her hands so she can get the water from the vending machine. Her other hand intertwines digits with Eli’s, nervously gripping against her warmth between clammy fingers. It’s like a final test; she did say she showed interest, but was there anything more than that?

Eli turns around to face Umi, and a smile is on her face. “I thought you’d leave.”

Silence fills the space between them. Why would she want to leave Eli behind? She has finally found peace of mind, the nagging that has bothered her since Valentine’s Day finally at an end, and Umi wants to savor that in every way she can. It’s something she simply can’t put into words, though; her hand grasps Eli’s tightly.

Eli giggles. “Are you fine with everyone seeing us come to the club room together?”

Umi nods. She’s fine with a bit of embarrassment if it means she can cement that she’s with Eli.

It’s the most at-ease that Umi’s been in weeks.

* * *

Something’s bothering Umi more than the additional entry in her scheduling book.

For her date, she has everything set up perfectly. She has her best dress, long, dark blue, and elegant, matched with a pair of quasi-sapphire earrings Kotori made for one of her costumes so long ago. She knows what restaurant she wants to go to, and she’s made the reservations with them, even going so far as to tell Eli about it. It might be micromanagement, but it comforts Umi to know that she has everything underway.

Yet in the placidity of the date being set up, there lingers a shadow, something that can’t be shaken away no matter how much preparation she attacks her problem with. It fetters her to no end, the mere thought of it bringing a chill to her fingertips as she recognizes how her date creates an incongruity. And yet, even as it provides her trepidation, Umi keeps it on her desk, as if to remind her that even in the most perfect of worlds there will be problems.

The letter from her paramour, re-sealed. She hasn’t made mention of it to anyone else, not even Honoka, not even Kotori.

Not even Eli.

Part of her wants to discard it. As much as she loves the letter, there’s nothing that the writer could do outside of being Eli herself that could attract Umi to her paramour. At the same time, though, it’s the kind of poetry that she herself envies, one that leaves her spellbound and breathless even when subtracting that the letter is about herself. She wishes she could write something half as beautiful as that letter; to throw it away would be to discard the deepest, darkest desires of a masterful lyricist, sown in a layer of saddening irony now that there is no way that the love can be reciprocated. It would be anathema to her romantic inclinations to keep it there, showcasing designs towards a woman whom she doesn’t even know over her lover, but it would betray her artistic inclinations to throw it away. It’s trapped in limbo, burning to the touch, impossible to move even when she needs it disposed of.

As poisonous as it is, she cares more about herself as an artist than a romantic, and she sits down, indulging herself in its lyricism once more.

Yet, instead of feeling joy, she feels aching. It’s momentarily in the heart before descending down into her gut and plunging her abdomen into a cold heat. The hopefulness that the words once had now reads like a barren echo, a plea, the need amplified far beyond how it was at first glance. Her stomach ties up in a knot, feeling the uneased refrain of words she once thought to be beyond beautiful, and all that beauty now reads as tragedy.

Umi puts it down before she can finish the first paragraph, and she puts it back in its envelope before the letter is joined with the rest of them in her recycling bin. She can’t stomach the thought of thinking about her admirer anymore. She has a lover now. She has someone she can be with, someone whom she admires. She can’t bring herself to read further; there is no world where her joyousness should be crippled by a sea of lamentations regarding a path less taken. To be with Eli is, for now, her path, and there’s no reason for her to reject it.

Not even for the beauty of the poetry she read. 

Eli is too precious to be disregarded for that kind of thing. She wants to apologize over the phone and tell Eli her grave sin, the thought of even _entertaining_ a paramour. She thought that she was better than that, but apparently she’s not. Eli’s stuck in some divide with a letter. Young love isn’t supposed to be _this_ fleeting, where a mere letter can have such an impact.

Umi leans forward, collapsing onto her desk. Her breathing grows heavy, and as she rests the back of her hand against her face, she feels warmth. She pulls herself away, and through glossed vision she sees tears running down the back of her hand, reaching the knuckle of her thumb before falling onto the desk below.

She wishes she knew what to believe in. She’s lost, and as she looks at her calendar, she realizes that she only has one more day before she has to confront Eli about it, and make her apologies clear.

It’s the closure that Umi needs, and the closure that Eli deserves.

* * *

It’s hard to wait.

Umi’s already messaged Eli that she’s at the restaurant and has sat down at their table, and she’s read the message from Eli that says that she’s on her way. There’s only one thing that Umi has to do now, outside of taking a few nervous sips of water from the cup the waitress kindly gave her. She has to wait, with her heels close to bouncing on the ground in some way to relieve the stress coursing through her.

She could look at the walls of the restaurant, the mixture of intricately-carved wooden walls and the occasional paper wall decoration to give the place a mixture of Western and Eastern influence, but the more she looks, the more pressure she feels. This is the best place that someone like her can manage to go to alone, without family. On the table, she eyes the wine list, long and expensive with words printed in Roman text she has no idea how to pronounce. She can tune that all out and listen to the adult conversations around her, corporate-types cheering for things that she doesn’t think she’ll understand until she gets through college.

This is the perfect place for Umi to go on a date. This is the perfect place for Umi to tell Eli that she’s been unfaithful in her mind to some anonymous writer. This is the perfect place to ruin the perfect date, because this is the perfect place for a perfect date to happen.

And Umi makes sure to look the part. Her hands nervously straighten her dress just a bit more, colored a blue darker than her earrings but just a bit lighter than her hair. It’s uncommon for her to wear makeup outside of being on stage, as a dojo heiress, but a bit of blush never hurts to emphasize her cheeks and lipstick always looks nice, even if it’s a near-nude color.

If only Eli could come soon. 

Her nervous sipping has left her with half a cup of water, and the time she spends eyeing the door grows in length. This is the last moment she can pull herself out of the situation she’s in, to quietly relieve herself of the unknowns that haunt her, and put everything down, all so she can think things over. But if she leaves, she’s made her decision and left Eli, dearest Eli, to dry. She doesn’t stand up. There is no point in trying anymore. The arrow of her destiny has left her bow, and she can only hope the winds of fate take her in the right direction.

And even if they hadn’t already, Eli’s entrance acts as the metaphorical release of the drawstring.

Eli looks astonishing, as always. She’s treating the date as seriously as Umi has. Her hair is not in the standard high ponytail Umi’s associated with her at school, but rather a low braid woven with elegance and precision. Her dress compliments Umi’s in all aspects but color; instead of a bright yellow to accentuate her hair, her dress accentuates her eyes with an attention-capturing aquamarine. The slight awkwardness in her steps indicates heels, and the smile on her lips as she sees Umi is accentuated by a deep red lipstick.

It’s just enough for Umi to forget entirely about the letter. It’s more than enough for Umi to forget how to breathe, she realizes, once Eli sits down and Umi tries greeting her. Taking a deep breath, she smiles, trying her best to make it look as legitimate and natural as she can.

“Nice to see you, Eli,” Umi begins the conversation.

“Nice to see you too, Umi!” Eli says, excitement clear in her voice. Whether she’s still just entertaining the notion of this date or genuinely enjoying herself, Umi doesn’t know.

Umi probes as far as small talk can probe. “How are you?”

“I’m doing alright, honestly. I’ve been so excited for tonight, and I can’t believe we’re here. What about you?”

Words come to mind, but the order fails Umi. It takes a moment for her to put everything together. “I’m doing well, thank you.”

Eli giggles. “No, I should really be thanking you!”

Eli’s words immediately take Umi aback, and suddenly Umi feels thankful for wearing the blush. She only hopes her makeup is concealing how she really feels. “How come you say that?”

Eli leans back in her chair and takes a deep breath. “I’ve needed something like this for a long time. Just a bit of time to relax and unwind from everything else. My life’s so busy these days, with the student council and the idol club and whatnot.”

Umi slowly nods, understanding. It makes a bit more sense when she puts it that way. She doesn’t want to interrupt Eli’s thoughts.

When Eli continues, though, Umi wishes she did.

“I’ve needed time to myself.” Eli giggles lowly to herself before looking into Umi’s eyes, her smile playing into a smirk. “Just me and my date tonight.”

The way that Eli says “date” makes Umi’s heart skip a beat, even if they both know she put this whole date upon herself. Words are impossible to find, especially to a quip like that, which aren’t a string of nervous blubbering that Eli would call cute or adorable.

Eli leans forward slightly, that smirk of hers unwavering. She’s thinking of something to say, some final zinger that would leave Umi completely breathless, and Umi is unable to counter whatever flirty comment she has lining up in her mind.

“Yeah,” Umi finally says, something to fill up space. “Just us tonight…”

It’s an echo of Eli’s sentiments, but it’s the best she can come up with. In truth, she didn’t even think that Eli would humor her to this extent.

“You, me, and some of the best food that Tokyo has to offer,” Eli replies, her smile growing wider as she mentions food. At that moment, Umi looks down and sees the menu. Food; that sounds about good right now. “You know what you want?” Eli asks.

“I was thinking about getting some salmon salad,” Umi replies. She doesn’t even need to look at the menu; if she did, she would still be wondering what to get.

“Ooh!” She says, aloud. “That sounds amazing! Let me see what they have, though.”

Eli scans through the menu while a waitress shows up, and like clockwork, Eli pulls away with a bright smile on her face.

“Welcome, welcome,” the waitress says. “What can I get you two?”

“I’ll have a lobster, and my girlfriend here would like a salmon salad!”

The waitress giggles before spinning on her heel. “I’ll get those right away for you two.”

It takes a minute, even after the waitress departs, for Umi to figure out how she wants to reply to Eli’s teasing. As much as she is a fan of hearing Eli call her her “girlfriend”, it’s difficult for her to think that she’s being serious about it. Instead, Umi tries to restart the conversation on a different note entirely.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here,” Umi comments.

“You’ve been here before?” Eli asks, her eyes widening.

“My parents used to take me here whenever they wanted to celebrate things like archery or kendo victories.”

“That’s really cool!”

Umi nods. “We stopped when I started high school.”

Eli tilts her head. “How come?”

Umi sighs. “High school’s difficult to balance with kendo, archery, and being a school idol. When you asked me on a date, it was the first place that came to mind because of how special it is to me.”

Eli’s smile grows just a bit more, her eyes twinkling. “I’m honored. This place is amazing.”

“One of the best in Tokyo,” Umi says. “That’s what my parents said.”

“It’s fitting,” Eli giggles. “Only the best for some of the best Otonokizaka has to offer.”

Umi’s blush is definitely transcending her makeup now, and she brings a hand to her face to hide how hot her cheeks look. “Stop it,” she whines, her words embarrassed, but with an undertone of playfulness that feels so awkward yet natural from her. It’s hard not to enjoy Eli doting on her with such words of affection.

And, the more that Umi thinks about it, the more she realizes that it might actually be true. When she was in the locker room on Valentine’s Day, she didn’t see any lockers that overflowed _quite_ like Eli’s, neither did she see one with as many letters in it as her own. They truly were two of the more popular people in the school, with leagues of lovers that neither knew about.

Like that one letter writer.

“It’s true,” Eli says, breaking Umi’s train of thought, for the better. “Everyone in µ’s is basically a minor celebrity in Japan because of Love Live.”

Umi nods quickly. Hell, even the letters make more sense with that context, and part of her wonders just how many valentines Honoka, Kotori, and the rest of µ’s got, just from being in µ’s. Recovering from her thoughts, Umi grabs her water and takes a sip.

That said, Eli leans just a bit more forward to add on one more thought: “that said, I’d say the same of both of us even if we weren’t in µ’s.”

It takes everything for Umi not to spit out her drink right there. She swallows it, along with the lump in her throat. She turns her attention towards the kitchen, momentarily wondering where the food is. She needs something to distract her, and wishes she had something for Eli to distract herself. She feels like she’s about to die if she doesn’t get a reprieve from the teasing.

As Umi looks at Eli, she still sees a twinkle in her eye, the kind she’s only seen from her when chocolate is mentioned. She’s truly enjoying herself, and Umi wonders if the amount that she’s flustered is entertaining Eli at all.

“You’re so cute,” Eli idly coos. That settles that.

Eli’s lips part, but before she can speak, a voice that’s familiar is heard.

“We have your lobster,” says the waitress as she puts down a plate with a lobster tail in front of Eli, with a few slices of lemon on its right and a cup of butter on its left. “And here’s your bib,” adds the waitress as she puts it down next to the plate.

Eli’s eyes grow wide, like dinner plates, and sparkle in a way Umi’s never seen them sparkle before. Before Umi can comment, though, the waitress puts her salad down in front of her, a mixture of leafy greens with a slice of salmon on top, seasoned with a mix of spices and flanked by slices of yuzu.

“Thank you,” says Umi.

“Thank you!” almost shouts Eli.

“Enjoy your meal,” says the waitress, who pivots on her heel and walks off.

As the waitress walks off, Eli captures Umi’s attention with her bright smile as she holds up the bib. “I’ve always wanted to try lobster because of this!”

“The bib?” Umi asks, incredulously.

“It’s so cute!” Eli says before casting her gaze on it. “And it even has the name of the restaurant on it!”

Umi doesn’t know if Eli being excited over a bib adds to her image or not. What she does know is that if Honoka were pulling the same stunt she would comment about it. But all she can do is sit there, watching as her crush raves about how there’s the name of the restaurant and a picture of a crab on her lobster bib (it doesn’t even come to mind that there’s a picture of the wrong animal). There is legitimately no word that Umi can think of to describe the scenario. She doesn’t even try. Her salad is in front of her, and it’s going to be cold if she doesn’t eat it.

Eli, getting the memo, ties on her bib, with a wide smile on her face all the way through. She claps her hands. “Alright, let’s eat!”

Umi joins her, and then she grabs her chopsticks and starts tossing her salad. She watches her salad partially, but she’s more focused watching as Eli starts cracking the lobster shell. Once Eli starts eating the lobster proper, Umi digs her chopsticks into the salad and starts eating.

The food is just as good as she remembers it being, and as Eli takes bite after bite of her lobster, it’s clear that Eli’s loving her dinner as much as she is.

“Why haven’t I had lobster before?” Eli asks between bites. After asking, she attacks her lobster, eating all she can and giving the bib she’s wearing work to do. It’s not the most attractive of scenes, to be honest, especially compared to the quiet way that Umi’s eating her salad, but still, Umi can’t take her eyes away from her. It’s cute. It’s immature and shameless, but seeing a side of this from Eli, of all people, is honestly endearing.

It doesn’t take that long for Eli to find a moment to take a break from her lobster, primarily so she can crack the shell and enjoy more of her meal. In that time, she resumes the conversation between them. “This is the perfect place for a date for us.”

Umi tilts her head. “What does that mean?” She almost wants to point her chopsticks at Eli, but that would be far too accusatory.

Eli puts down her lobster tail. “What I mean is that it’s perfect. The food is amazing, as is the atmosphere.”

Umi’s flattered, but she retaliates. “What do you even mean by that?”

Eli giggles, placing her palms flat on the table after wiping the lobster juices off her fingers. “Don’t pretend I don’t know how popular you were on Valentine’s Day.”

Leave it to Eli to bring up the elephant in the room, the one that Umi wished she could keep quiet about forever.

“You…” Umi asks, her breathing growing forced. “...noticed?”

Eli nods matter-of-factly. “You had a lot of suitors, you charmer you.”

“I don’t even know why,” Umi says.

Eli giggles. “I think I know why.”

“How come?” Umi queries.

“Because you’re special,” Eli says. “I’m sure there are a lot of letters that said that about you.”

Umi puts her chopsticks down, her other hand balled up in a fist underneath the table. This feels distressing. It’s like Eli wants her to talk about that particular letter. Eli wants her to be up-front that she’s been thinking of someone else on the same level that she thinks about Eli. And even worse, Eli’s cornered her; her departure would say the same thing as saying she’s been cheating and unfaithful.

And finally, Eli notices. “Is something wrong?”

Umi nods. It takes a few deep breaths for her to think of what to say, to put the words in the correct way, and even as she does, she imagines Eli’s expression, changing from joy to disgust. Not that she blames her for thinking about her that way once her secret comes out. She tries this romance thing _once_ and even before her first date she proves to be completely unfaithful to her lover.

But if Umi truly loves Eli, she should say it. And she does.

“Someone did say that.”

Eli’s eyebrows lift. “Hmm?”

“Someone gave me a letter like that, where she wrote out all the reasons why I’m great, and why she’d want to be with me. It was written so beautifully that it’s been on my mind since then, and I don’t even know who wrote it. I’ve been nervous about it, though, because I didn’t want to tell you. I was happy enough just to go on this date, and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Umi’s on the verge of tears, and the only thing that stops her is Eli asking her questions.

“Was the love letter in a pink envelope sealed with a heart sticker?”

Umi nods. “It was.”

Eli sighs and shakes her head. “Umi…”

 _Umi_ nothing. Umi blew it, and she knows she blew it.

“I’m sorry for thinking about someone else when we were going on this date! It’s shameless of me to pull you along for something like this!”

“Umi…”

“Don’t _Umi_ me, Eli! What I’ve done is wrong, and I’ve been scared to come here to confront you about it! I’m really sorry for this, and I don’t know how to apologize enough for--”

“That was my letter, Umi.”

Umi’s words die right there.

Now that it’s silent between herself and Umi, Eli continues.

“That letter you’re talking about was my valentine to you, Umi! You don’t have to apologize for it.”

There are a myriad of feelings that course through Umi’s head as she processes Eli’s words, and every single one of them is impossible for her to express. Her face is blank. There is nothing that she can say or do except be embarrassed about how she’s been acting, and how she’s spent the last month lamenting this when there’s no point in doing so.

The letter writer was Eli all along.

Umi has no comment. She sits there, breathing, unable to talk. There’s nothing she can say.

There’s too much for her to say.

The images that have tortured her in her dreams, thoughts of leaving Eli so that Umi could embrace a mysterious writer, are changing to fit the new narrative; she leaves Eli to be in Eli’s arms again, with the few moments of reprieve cold, silent, and empty. The image changes again; there’s no point for Umi to leave Eli’s arms anymore. She’s not leaving anywhere to go anywhere else.

As Umi’s thoughts merge with her new reality, a light behind Eli flickers a bit brighter, capturing the image of her gnawing on the last bits of lobster meat in its tail. It’s not a romantic image at all, but neither would the image be romantic if she were to look in a mirror. It’s Eli at her most shameless and childlike. It’s Eli divorced from Umi’s mental perception of her.

It’s Eli in reality. It’s truly Eli.

And with that abandonment, her thoughts, and having her lover and paramour in front of her, Umi finally comes up with the right words to say.

“You really think what you wrote to me?” Umi asks.

Eli puts her lobster down. “Umi, you know how many valentines I had in my locker?”

Umi nods.

“Do you think there’s a reason why I asked you to go on a date instead of any of the other people who put a letter in my locker?”

Umi cannot believe she didn’t even think that through. Yet again, she rebutes with her excuse: “I thought everyone except me didn’t tell you who they were!”

Eli chuckles. “You’d think that, but there were several who did. And out of those,” Eli points a finger at Umi, “there was only one who I wanted to date.”

Umi feels herself flush, even if it’s not as violent as the heat waves from before. “Why, thank you.”

“No, no,” Eli retorts. “Thank you! This lobster was delicious!” After she speaks, she grabs her bib and uses it to wipe her mouth.

Umi doesn’t know what to say, and as she tries to grab another piece of lettuce, she scavenges the entire plate of salad. She’s cleaned everything up quite nicely.

And, right on cue, the waitress comes back and grabs their empty plates.

* * *

Even if they only planned on going on a dinner date, neither Eli nor Umi wants the night to end after dinner.

The scenery of a spring evening in the heart of a big city does not help their case. The sidewalks are bathed in neon lights and LED advertisements, with scores of salarymen walking up and down the sidewalks. The wind carries the scents of candies and street foods alike, wafted from booths and open doors of shopping districts. From those areas, too, comes music, muted by softly whispering winds that cause their ears to grow pink.

It’s a world that’s expansive, inviting, and even overwhelming, and Umi has someone to share it with. Hands clasped, and fingers intertwined, their unity is strong, even if the only thing they do is wander around the vicinity.

It’s not about the places they go. It’s about the time spent together. There’s no conversation to be had except for the occasional comment from Eli about something she finds interesting about the people they see. Umi just nods, thinking more about how her hand is in Eli’s than any of the jokes that her girlfriend is potentially cracking. Even if she’s idle in conversation, Umi keeps up, staying just a bit slower than Eli. She wants every moment to last.

Every smile and tug on her arm. Every glimpse into a window to observe a stuffed bear or people enjoying coffee. Every instance their arms graze against one another as they make room on the sidewalk for someone in a hurry. It’s all impossible for Umi not to cherish. It’s almost meditative, except for how indulgent she’s being and how she basks in it.

It’s impossible not to be proud of holding Eli’s hand in her own. It’s something that Umi once thought would only be a dream, a fantasy that she’d nervously tuck away in the back of her mind or would spill out into words when writing song lyrics. Eli’s warm, slender, well-lotioned hands seemed so far away from hers, and now with them intertwined with her own, she felt stronger, and she let that pride hold her head high.

The rhythm of walking ceases, though, as a familiar scent fills the air, a sweetness that immediately picks up Eli’s pace. Umi’s dragged along, running as fast as she can with Eli’s hand in hers until she reaches her destination: a chocolatier.

Eli’s smile is wide and her eyes sparkle as she looks at the assortments of chocolate behind the glass, and immediately, with her free hand, she starts pointing at different things. _Strawberry Delight_ , _Midnight Reverence_ , _Pistachio Overture_. The names spell decadence, the kinds of chocolates that work best as valentines gifts, and as Eli scans and points out her favorites (an outstanding majority of the chocolates), Umi realizes that she’s forgotten something special.

Umi takes note of the chocolates that Eli’s talking about, and once the cashier notices that there’s a potential customer, Umi speaks up, listing out the last fifteen chocolates that Eli pointed out in reverse order. She braces herself, knowing she’s already damaged her bank account significantly by paying for the restaurant, but she’s not going to say no to giving Eli chocolates.

If anything, she’s sorry she didn’t include them in her valentine to her.

“I’ll pay, Umi,” Eli says as she nudges Umi.

Umi turns and faces Eli. “It’s fine,” Umi says. “I’ll pay.” She places ¥3000 on the counter, which the cashier takes. Along with the chocolates, she gets back a small amount of money in change.

The money goes to Umi, and the chocolates to Eli, who immediately thanks Umi by pressing herself up close and kissing her cheek. Eli’s lips are incredibly warm and soft, and the redness of her lipstick is immediately hidden by Umi’s flush growing bright as she realizes what just happened.

Umi whisks Eli away from the stand, and they continue walking.

Occasionally, as they walk, Eli reaches into her bag and grabs a chocolate. Once it’s popped in her mouth, she returns her hand to Umi’s. When Eli reaches into her bag, she sometimes pulls out another chocolate and asks if Umi wants it. While Umi rejects it the first few times, telling Eli that it’s her chocolate, she can’t help but try one of them for herself.

Umi reminds herself to go back there, even if it’s not for Eli’s sake. The chocolates she bought are absolutely worth every yen spent on them, even beyond the smile on Eli’s face as she indulges in her dessert.

And once the chocolates are gone, their hands meet once more, fingers intertwining, and they walk into the night, leaving the bright neon of the city behind them. The only light Umi needs is Eli.

Eli’s fingers squeeze Umi’s. The only light Eli needs is Umi, but a flashlight wouldn’t hurt, either.

* * *

Eli and Umi stop walking when they reach the train station and they see the time. It’s past 22:00, and Umi’s feeling tired.

“You want to call it a night, Umi?”

It’s not that Umi wants to leave Eli. She doesn’t. Even if she will see Eli when the week begins, having one day outside of that seems like it’s far too long. But it’s hard to withhold a yawn as well, and as Umi takes a deep breath, Eli slowly pulls her fingers away from Umi’s.

Umi responds by grabbing Eli by the hand. A curious eyebrow lifts as Eli observes.

“I don’t want this to end,” Umi replies.

“Me neither,” Eli says, “but it’s getting late, and my parents are probably worried sick about me.”

“I understand,” Umi says. “My parents are probably concerned, too.”

Umi’s hand feels cold as she pulls away from Eli, the departure from their union cold and lonely. Even if she knows that this is something that can be repeated again and again, the first letting go is always the most difficult. Every fiber of Umi’s being wants her to grab Eli’s hand, but she grounds herself. She doesn’t want to ruin what she has.

It’s not better to have loved and lost.

“Goodnight, Eli,” Umi mumbles, starting to turn around.

Before Umi can turn all the way, Eli pushes forth and wraps her arms around Umi. She’s warm, and her expression is of mild, teasing confusion. “You sure you don’t want a hug before you go?”

Umi gingerly wraps her arms around Eli. It feels like almost too much to handle all at once, but she won’t deny herself the privilege of being in her lover’s arms.

Nor does Eli deny Umi the privilege of stealing her first kiss. Umi doesn’t even flinch as Eli leans in with puckered lips. Umi closes her eyes and lets it happen; she deserves it, and welcomes her thievery with open arms wrapping even more tightly around her.

After their kiss, Eli pulls away, relieving the embrace. “Goodnight, Umi!”

Eli turns around and starts running home, leaving Umi to wave and bid her adieu.

* * *

In her dreams, Umi stands at an archery range with a target far away. The wind blows through her outfit, ready to take any arrow with it. Regardless, she is ready. She pulls the drawstring back and lets the calm flow through her.

Umi lets go.

She hits the target.

**Author's Note:**

> so this fic definitely wouldn't have been as good as it is without the lovely help from [asallia,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asallia/pseuds/Asallia) whose work you should totally check out if you like umi being completely stupid like this. 
> 
> i would also like to thank hoshiboba for coming up with this idea and giving me a reason to write an eliumi.


End file.
